


"And the cadence of what she says is swell"

by muldertorture (steelneena)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, The Gunmen appear only via mention, but in the 80's., hipster!mulder, punk!scully, requise College AU oneshot that everyone was writing in 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/muldertorture
Summary: Mulder and Scully go stargazing





	"And the cadence of what she says is swell"

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Let's Talk About Spaceships" by Say Hi To Your Mom For Me but written to "Twilight Galaxy" by Metric: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UebSmtb6gs
> 
> requisite College AU with punk scully and nerd mulder than everyone was writing back in 2015
> 
> party loosely based on my own college experiences, which have since ended.

The red and black flannel blanket was the only barrier between them and the dew that covered ground below them. A hill rose to the left, the moon was to the right and a satellite was drifting in its orbit past the curtain of stars. The party that had been going on atop the hill had quieted, but the bonfire was still going, the only light beyond the heavenly bodies to illuminate the deep darkness of a mid May night.

Carefully, Mulder glanced to the side. She was lying next to him, almost disappearing into the pattern of the blanket except for the section in the center of her chest where her equally red and black flannel was unbuttoned to reveal her white tank. Her copper hair looked chrome in the night lights and her eyes sparked as she gazed unendingly up at the sky. She’d tied her leather jacket around her waist, but it was low on her hips, revealing a strip of pale skin at her stomach.  The strap of his bag brushed against his head from where it sat off to a corner of their little rectangle of dryness. She had one arm behind her head to support her neck and the other lying over her stomach loosely; down the short, lean lines of her lightwashed and ragged jeans, the scuffed black of her combat boots were stacked one over the other like black holes in the landscape of the night sky where her ankles were crossed.

He couldn’t believe she was there with him.

Dana Scully was the last person he’d anticipated to be spending time with at the beginning of the school year. They had different personalities, different interests, (different styles to say the least) and were in different programmes. And yet, there she was was, lying beside him in the wet chill. Alone together. 

Mulder had both of his hands folded across his stomach and his glasses were pinching behind his ears. A rock had been digging into his back uncomfortably since they’d settled in, but he hadn’t the willpower to move and threaten the sanctity of the moment in the process.

It all started at the party. The party he wasn’t really sure he’d been invited to. A couple of his friends - three older, graduate students who acted like imbecilic teenagers, but to whom he’d somehow become attached (they accepted him without question) - Langly, Forhicke and Byers, told him that it was going to be “worth witnessing” and brought him along. If Mulder were being totally honest himself, he’d have admitted that they probably weren’t invited either. Despite his seeming inability to escape the social suicide of eternal nerdom, the “Lone Gunmen” as they stylized themself in their privately funded school rag, seemingly had connections and the four motley acquaintances were welcomed without question. Beers were passed around, as well as blunts, and conversation struck up over the vaguely punk music blaring in the background.

Dana was milling about, laughing, obviously comfortable with the partygoers. She was fiery and fierce and intelligent, not to mention daringly beautiful.  Mulder had watched her from afar. They knew each other, if only in passing and from the few friends who’s acquaintances they somehow had in common, and she’d found her way to a location directly adjacent to him, a bottle of Guinness in hand, when he decided to wing it and strike up conversation.

 _“I’m only here tonight because MUFON statistics suggest that there might be a sighting near here tonight,”_ The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop himself. At least he had sounded casual saying it, not too pretentious. Nor did he sound drolly bored, as his monotone and New England upbringing seemed wont to lend itself. And it was true. It was the same reason the Gunmen had decided to ‘crash’ the party.

 _“Flying Saucers and shit?”_ She had asked him, pulling another cigarette from the pack in her pocket with one hand.

_“Unidentified Flying Objects, not limited to but including saucerlike dimensions and ‘shit’, yes.”_

_“Where are you expecting them to show up? Somewhere between Virgo and Canes Venatici?”_ The smoke from her cigarette was swept away by the wind and mingled with that of the bonfire.

 _“Sure. Let’s go with that. I’ll settle for the field across the way though, much closer,easier to get to”_ He’d replied. She looked at him supercilious at first and then threw back her head of liquid copper and laughed. When she was looking at him again it was firm and almost disconcerting, if he hadn’t felt so at home fixed in place by the way her gaze pierced him. She’d reached up from her spot sitting atop the fence and plucked the ragged NASA cap from his head and plopped in on hers.

_“I bet you listen to Soul Coughing and Porno for Pyros. Shit like that, huh?”_

_“And you probably prefer Agent Orange or Sugar Ray So what?”_ He retorted, trying hard not to think about the fact that she was surely referencing “White Girl”, a song which he did happen to have on cassette.

_“More like the Clash actually, but if you’re wondering if I’ve had sex while Scuzz Boots was playing you’re going to have to keep dreaming because I’m not going to tell you.”_

_“How’re the PreMed classes coming?”_ He asked after a brief chuckle. She let another puff out, off hand and shrugged.

_“Alright. I hear you’re top of the class this year Mr. Psychologist-in-training.”_

_“Well I don’t spend every night lying in a field watching the sky. Just when I hear there’s gonna be a show.”_

_“Hmm. There goes all my preconceived notions about you, “Spooky”.”_ She said with a smile, and he knew she didn’t mean anything by the nickname.

 _“You want to join me?”_ Asking had been taking a hell of a chance, but after a thoughtful drag on her cigarette she dropped it to the ground, put it out with her boot, hefted her own bag from the ground, full beer bottles clinking noisily within their confines and told him to lead the way as she returned his NASA hat to its proper place on his head. 

They’d been lying there an indeterminable time, though he imagined it was already at least an hour and a half. Going on two in the morning, by his guess. The stars, it seemed, were less interesting than her. Dana Scully’s face was almost white by the light of the moon. Desaturated though everything was, it seemed that she shone more brightly for it, soft and beautiful.

Another moment passed in comfortable silence.

“I haven’t stargazed in a long time.” She didn’t look away from the stars, her expression serene and wistful. It was such an intimate expression that Mulder turned from her. “I forgot how peaceful it is,” Her voice was hardly a whisper. The soft rustle of her hair and the blanket against the grass was the only indication that she’d moved. He glanced at her again and saw that she was looking at him carefully. At her throat, her free hand played with the shine of a small, delicate cross. “I used to do this with Ahab - my Dad - when he wasn’t out on assignment.”

Mulder blinked, his face carefully remaining passive. “I never used to stargaze. No one has ever joined me before.” 

“Why’d you start?”

“My sister. She went missing when she was 8 and I was 12. I guess, I started when I ran out of other ways to look for her.”

Dana Scully’s face took on a look Mulder hadn’t expected, one of deep compassion. For a girl in the punk scene, she’d always seemed so removed, but he should have guessed that she was as alive in her emotions as she was dedicated to her courses. Shivering, unsure if it was the chill or her expression, Mulder didn’t dare look away but felt his body stiffen, muscles coiling. 

“I hope you find her someday. She’s lucky to have a brother like you, Fox.”

“I wasn’t the best brother when she was here with us, but thank you,” He paused a moment, let his hands unclasp and slide from his stomach to the blanket. “You should call me Mulder,” he said. “I make everyone call me Mulder.”

She blinked, the constantly skeptical look reappearing on her face. “Well alright Mulder, then you had better call me Scully.” Dana let the cross lay at the juncture of her collarbone, her hand too falling away to the space between them.

“Scully,” He tested her name on his lips. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Let’s talk about spaceships.”

“Spaceships?”

“Yes. And the probability of inter-dimensional flight occurring within the next millennia based upon current scientific knowledge and engineering capabilities.”

It took him several moments to realize that, no, she wasn’t joking or making fun of him, but less than that to take in the utter seriousness of her gaze and know that he was absolutely going to be head over heels in love with her for the rest of his life.

But, because of the fact that (unlike the Gunmen had suggested in their last issue) as Mulder didn’t seem to have a latent aptitude for remote viewing or telepathy, what he didn’t know was that, despite his graceless conversational skills, his straightforward mannerisms, or his spooky beliefs, Dana Scully was head over heels too.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Sugar Ray used to be kinda punk back in the day. And a lot more alternative metal. Scuzzboots is neither of these things, however. It's just damn good music.


End file.
